No Regrets
by Witchyprincess
Summary: They made a deal not to feel. But everyone knows the deal fell through, what happens when Trunks can't blame Pan? [one shot] TP


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Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not the characters. Not the plot. Some of the dialogue isn't even mine. I'm a thief. I got the plot from a book called _Knowing You _by some woman. Point is, it's not mine. I just put a twist on her story with someone else's characters. There. It has been said. 

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Rating: This story is rated 'R' though there is no descriptive anything. I just wanted to be on the safe side. There's no actual lemon, but it dances around it, slightly. -shrug- It really should be PG-13 but whatever.

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A/N: This is a **one shot**. That means, there is only one chapter. I like to call them: 'get it right the first time's. I worked on this whenever I had writer's block or wanted a change in scene from NSN. I've been working on it for a while, but I finished the last two pages or so today. I know, I know. My NSN chapter will be out soon. I'm trying to get it done. But it's too time consuming with everything else that's going on. Well, read this and I hope you enjoy:

It was around the tenth 'couples only' dance that she decided to leave. She was only one glass of wine richer and only one page-filled-with-dirty-words kind of bitter. Really, she was more overjoyed than anything. Besides, the other girl, so delicate in her form, looked so gorgeous in her wedding gown it was hard not to be happy for her. She was beautiful tonight - but then she always was, always had been. Bura had always been known for her looks so it was no surprise that she married first. Nor was it surprising _who_ she married. Her best friend, her confidant, the boy who'd had a lifetime crush on her - Ubuu. 

And it was equally less shocking that Pan had been a brides _maid_, never the bride. What was even more cliché was that, while Pan had been hoping the bouquet landed in her hands as some kind of secret vow from Fate that she was next - or at least on the radar - the woman hadn't even left her a glimpse of hope. Marron had gotten it and it was common knowledge that she'd had her eye on Goten for a while. So both the girls with blue eyes were getting their wish and where did that leave Pan? 

With a carton of ice cream and an empty apartment over a restaurant that would forever be a small shop diner. Oh, and a couple of romance movies to keep her company. Maybe she could be happy on her own. She could get a dog and they'd become best friends. Yes, that sounded nice to her.

She eased away from the patio, backing up slowly and checking to make sure no one was watching her. She knew that if she announced her plans to go they would pull her back into the party. They always had, saying she was a stick in the mud and needed to learn how to party. But she wasn't really interested in 'learning how to party'. And she didn't need the assistance, thank you very much. 

The music was still pumping loudly and she could hear Bura's laughter over all the others as she cast her eyes to the sky looking at the stars that started to shine overhead. The complexion of the moon was getting darker and the clouds were moving faster, she estimated that soon the party would be rained out, so she wouldn't have to worry about someone sending out a 'missing persons' add on her after all. Her feet made a loud clapping on the pavement as she made her way down the street, glad that her diner wasn't far off and she had the luxury of being able to walk instead of drive - the car starting would have made too much noise for Saiyan ears not to pick up. Her father would have sniffed her out in a second if she had gotten into a car. 

Her high-heels made if difficult for her to walk and as the wind kicked up she lost her balance, stumbling and almost loosing her footing. Her hair, which was piled high into a bun on top of her head, caught the branch of a near-by tree and it held onto her for dear life. She straightened her body as best she could, trying to right her foot without breaking her ankle - or the heel - and then tried to snatch her head back from the tree. He wouldn't let go. She reached her hand back but couldn't reach far enough to get herself loose. 

"Darn it." She mumbled, fixing her face into a slight frown. She tried again to pull her head forward but stopped when she envisioned her hair ripping directly off the scalp and clinging to the tree. Sighing, she moved her body back, slowly and awkwardly because she couldn't completely stand up with the way she was being held captive. Then she tried to maneuver her hands so that she could grab the hair and hold it to the branch while she pulled, that way the branch would break and she would at least be free of the tree, if not it's limb. She still couldn't reach, however, and suddenly the music that was playing in the background sounded very inviting, couples only or not. 

She was going to be stuck here until someone strolled by to help her. Either that or she could just free her scalp of all those restricting black locks that always seemed to get tangled anyway. She opened her mouth to yell but realized that she was too far away now, even with Saiyans at the party, they'd never hear her over the music. So she was stuck being this tree's best friend for possibly the rest of the night. How wonderful was that? 

"Come on Mr. Tree, give me a break." She sighed, still trying to move her hands so that she could reach the bark, slightly panicky now that she realized she was completely stuck. "Look, you seem like a nice tree, but-"

"Should I leave you two alone?" A warm, very familiar voice sounded through her misery, more than just a touch of laughter coating his question. She jumped slightly at the sound, twisting her body as much as she could and turning her head _very_ slightly to see a pair of tuxedo clad legs. Thank Dende. The Calvary. 

"Trunks?" Her voice was dressed with relief. The legs moved closer to her before the voice answered. 

"Yeah, it's me...What are you doing?" She could almost see the smile on his face, hear the smirk in his voice.

What kind of dumb question was that? What did it look like she was doing? She had to bite her lip before she answered, to keep the anger out, to stop herself from yelling. She took a deep breath and then attempted to shrug her shoulders. "Oh, you know...Just hanging." She heard his chuckle before his response made it to her ears. 

"Ah ha, very funny." The response was dry and sarcastic but she could still hear the touch of humor in it. 

"Well I'm sorry but I'm not at my witty best right now. You know, being held captive by a tree and all." 

"I can wait." She saw him rock back and forth on his feet once before stopping and she sent the meanest glare she could at his knees.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" 

"I shouldn't be, should I?" 

"Are you just going to stand there? Staring?" He chuckled and she drooped her shoulders. 

"I'm trying to decide. Give me a few minutes." 

"Trunks!" She chastised, anger lacing her voice and seeping through her body out into the atmosphere.

"Pan!" He countered, copying her tone and matching her pitch. 

"Are you going to help me?" There was a desperate plea there that she knew he was getting a kick out of. 

"I don't know...I think I'll come back later when I've had the chance to weigh the pros and cons." He was barely able to keep the laughter smuggled inside his throat, and if she were free she'd have punched him in the face. She made a move to kick him but he moved out of the way of her strappy-sandaled shoe, laughing out loud this time. She saw his legs turn around and panic beat through every vain in her body. He was going to leave her there!

"Trunks," She started in a warning tone. He paused. "If you leave me here I'm going to..." She huffed, trying desperately to come up with something before he walked away. 

"Yes?" He teased and she knew he'd lifted an eyebrow in anticipation. 

"I'll...I'm going to..." She heaved another sigh, defeated. "All right, I can't really do anything to you now. But once I get out of this - and I _am_ going to get out of this - I'll-" 

"That's real incentive to help you." He interrupted before she could make her threat. And, realizing he was right, she shut up promptly. "Besides," He continued. "I get the feeling your bark is bigger than your bite." 

She groaned loudly, her nostrils flaring with anger. "Tree humor. Just great." Her brow furrowed as she poked out her lip, a whimpering sound coming from somewhere deep in her throat. "Trunks, help me."

"All right." He walked back over to her, his body stopping right when her head hit his chest, and reached his arms up to untangle her hair. She leaned into him, wafting his scent as she began to relax, knowing freedom was just a few tugs away. Now that he was here and she was leaning against him, he was warm and comforting, something solid that she could appreciate and be pacified by. 

"Why were you wearing your hair all piled up on your head anyway?" He questioned as he worked, trying hard to get the tangles out that she'd made worse by all the moving she did. 

"I was part of the wedding party, Trunks. I couldn't very well wear a pony tail or my old bandanna, now could I-eh-ouch!" Her voice faltered on the 'I', which quickly faded into an 'ouch' as she gritted her teeth against each other. 

"Sorry." He apologized, wincing and he continued. "You know, it looks much better down." He pulled the last few strands loose as he said this, stepping back to look at her. 

"Assuming that I have hair left," She began, rubbing the back of her head. "I'll keep that in mind." 

"Everyone's a critic." He stated dryly, smiling at her with ease as her curls toppled out of the bun they'd been pinned in so meticulously. 

"I guess that ends this style." She shrugged, reaching her hands up to undo the rest of the pins and let her hair glide down her shoulders. "So, what do you think? More me, now?" A smile crushed onto her lips as she asked, the dimple on her right cheek becoming pronounced. 

"Definitely." He grinned at her, letting his blue eyes sparkle as he nodded his head, amethyst strands sliding into his face as he did so. She reached up and brushed them back, shrugging her shoulders and trying to cover the blush that had risen up her cheeks as she looked at him. 

"So, where were you headed?" She questioned after a moment of strained silence. 

"Capsule. It's too late to go back to my apartment and I think it's about to storm." His eyes drifted towards the sky as she nodded, in complete agreement with him about the storm. A fat drop of rain had just spattered onto her forehead as he spoke. She reached a hand up, using her slender pointer finger to wipe it away. 

"Yeah, I was just going home myself. Thought I'd watch a movie or two and eat a pint of ice-cream before I depressed myself to bed." His eyes shifted back to her, catching the glint in hers as she spoke, and his lips twitched into a half-smile. 

"You want some company?" He offered, shrugging his shoulders lazily as he watched her. 

She hesitated before she answered, not wanting to accept his offer but not really having a reason not to. They were two people who were about to spend a night alone. Why not spend some time alone, together? It made sense, in a logical sort of way, but she was thinking more with her heart than her head. And her and Trunks alone, in her apartment while she was feeling vulnerable, wasn't something her heart said was good for her. How long had she been in love with him again? Too damn long. 

"Matters not, to me." She smiled lightly, tilting her head to the side in silent wonder. "What happened to Stephanie. I thought she was supposed to be your date tonight." The man had always paraded around with some beautiful woman or another. He was never the suave type, but somehow he found his way into any woman's heart. It could be the childishly-handsome good looks or the fact that he was more than just a little rich, or it could just be the way he blushed every time a woman touched him. Either way, more than his share of women tended to find him endearing and he always seemed to have the most gorgeous girl there was. Tonight, Stephanie Haverts was on the list of luckies and she wasn't here. She'd had to have been shot to miss her chance with him. 

"Oh, she was called in for an emergency fashion shoot. They had to fly her to the Caribbean." The way he responded, as if it were every day ordinary to have your date cancel because she needed to go to a paradise-like island and take pictures, made something inside Pan's head spin. She wanted to reach out and punch him, but she also wanted to laugh. 

"Yeah, I hate it when that happens." She said forlornly as they began to walk, slowly down the sidewalk. He looked down at her, lips upturned in a sly grin. 

"Get that a lot, do you?"

"Yeah, just last week I was out with this fabulous guy and he had to leave in the middle of the date, change in a phone booth, and rush off to save Metropolis. Again. It was a bummer." 

"Yeah?" He asked, teasing clear in his voice, laughter barely held back. 

"Yeah. I had to tell him that if he couldn't be more committed to us, it just wasn't going to work. So, naturally, he hasn't called."

"He's an idiot." His eyes shined into her as he spoke, etching their blue hue into her soul and letting her know that he was serious, despite the joke. He'd done it again. Made her stomach do gymnastics. As his voice ebbed out of her head to be replaced by the laughter that he was now filling the silence with, she had to make herself listen to him. "So, anyway. What kind of movie are you watching? No chick-flicks." 

"Classify a chick-flick." She stated indignantly, crossing her arms and silently telling him that she was offended. 

"One where it takes the whole movie for one person to die." He responded, ignoring her tantrum of sorts. 

"Oh, I get it. You want a whole bunch of people to die in ten seconds, eh? Fine, I promise you, huge stuff will be destroyed horrendously." 

"Good."

*

It was an immediate reaction, the second Pan walked up the stairs and entered her apartment, she went right down the hall and into her room to change. She only glanced at Trunks long enough to tell him to get the ice-cream and she would get the movie. And while she busied herself with becoming more 'Pan-like', Trunks took it upon himself to scan the loft apartment she kept over her restaurant, Son's Kitchen. It was like her in every way imaginable. Warm and small, cozy colors that were welcoming and made him feel at home. Dark wood floor and a slightly darker coating of paint on the walls. Small chairs and one long sofa with millions of pillows. Nothing incredibly feminine, yet it held a woman's touch so completely that he could close his eyes a know exactly what gender lived here. 

Maybe it was simply the smell of baked bread that drifted from her kitchen and invaded his senses, burying it's scent deep into the crevices of his brain so that he never wanted to leave again. He headed straight for that kitchen, exploring a few cabinets before his memory reminded him of where the bowls were. He pulled down two round, metal bowls and then opened the drawer where he knew the silverware was held and grabbed an ice-cream scoop as well as two spoons. Before he even had the chance to open the refrigerator he heard Pan's voice, loud and pounding in his ears. She wasn't making coherent sense, more like screeching syllables of inscrutable profanity as she struggled with something or other. 

"What's wrong?" He called out, half alarmed, half amused. "Are you all right?" 

"I'm fine." She supplied, her voice sounding nearer as she talked. "I just...the zipper's stuck." She was in front of him now, her face slightly red though he couldn't tell why. "I don't want to rip the stupid dress. Cost a couple of limbs, you know? Unzip me." She turned her back to him and waited expectantly. 

He reached his hand out but, for some unknown reason, hesitated and pulled it back. His eyes casually danced over her smooth, lightly tanned skin. Skin that reminded him of sweet strawberries in the soft light. He swallowed hard and shook his head, wondering why his brain had gone on vacation for a second. He wouldn't allow his mind to take notice of the nude-colored bra back strap just beneath the edge of her dress. He didn't notice, either, how the dress skimmed along her body like a lover's touch. Instead, he placed all of his attention on the pale pink zipper that was caught in between equally pale fabric. 

"Trunks?" Her voice broke him out of his reverie, just before his hand met the caught zipper of her dress. "Are you okay?" Her voice was slightly patronizing and he could tell that she was fighting the urge to turn around and slug him. 

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." He mumbled, grabbing the zipper and tugging lightly, making sure his fingers didn't brush her skin. He wasn't sure where his mind had just went but he was pretty sure he didn't want it going back there, so there was no point in letting his digits glide across her back - he'd only be teasing himself. 

"You know, I think you've been working too hard. They say that the mind's the first thing to go." Pan shook her head, shifting her body weight to the other foot as she waited patiently. 

"Right." He responded absently, now struggling with her dress. Why were his hands shaking, he wondered? It was just a dress. He only had to get it functioning again, he didn't have to help her out of it. A small blush rose up his neck and settled somewhere beneath each of his eyes at the thought. 

"If it won't come down, you can rip it off." She supplied after a second longer of waiting impatiently. 

"Right." He repeated again. Instantly, images flooded his brain. Images that had no business being there - images no sane man would have allowed into his head. It was at that moment that he knew she was right - he _had_ been working too hard. He was going mental. His brain had left his body and was looking for a new owner, upset from over use, he was sure of it. That was the only explanation. Well, the only rational one. He blinked hard, shaking his head again, roughly this time, and yanking on the dress. The zipper righted itself and slid down so that she was no longer stuck inside the dress. 

"Thanks." She turned, smiling, her hands already holding the top of her strapless dress in place. "I want fudge brownie ice-cream, in case you were wondering." Her brown eyes held something captivating within them, something he'd never seen before, and it made his stomach turn crazily for a second. He nodded his head, blinked a few more times, and turned away from her, heading back to the ice-cream he was in the midst of preparing. 

When she came back she was sporting baby blue drawstring, cotton pants that were striped with white and a white spaghetti top that clung to her body and stopped just under her navel, exposing pieces of flesh he'd been hoping to go all of his life without seeing. Especially since he'd used her absence to _clear _his head of sex. Her hair was pulled into a pony-tail, raven pieces of slightly curly, slightly wavy, hair cascading down her back in tantalizing ripples. Her brown eyes were doing a mischievous dance as she grasped something behind her back, moving to the VCR and plucking the tape in before he had a chance to inspect. 

She plopped down on the couch next to him, grabbing her bowl of ice-cream and the remote. She pressed the PLAY button and waited patiently through all the previews, staring at Trunks as if she'd just gotten away with something huge. He lifted his eyebrow at her, eyeing her wearily as he began eating his own ice-cream, and wishing the previews were over. He wanted to know what she had him watching. 

He was very aware that whatever it was, wasn't going to be the James Bond type movie he had expected. He could tell by simply watching what kind of previews were flashing across the screen - he was already bored and disappointed. But she was _Pan_, she was supposed to like the fighting, the bombs, the kung-fu. What had happened to the gangly girl that used to follow him around and beg for a training session?

"What is this?" He asked finally, when he couldn't take it a second longer. She giggled and shrugged, shoving a spoon full of ice-cream into her mouth and sopping it up. "Pan." He stated warningly. "You promised me explosives."

"No I didn't. I promised you destruction and death. Lots of death. You're going to get it." She wiggled her eyebrows and grinned at him. "And I'm going to get Leo."

"I'm sorry?" He stopped there, not waiting for a response because he heard the familiar music of a song that he'd hoped would never again fill his ears with it's melody. 

__

"Far across the distance, and spaces between us..."

"You've lost your mind, Pan." He shook his head, folding his arms across his chest stubbornly and pouting like a four year old. "You tricked me." 

"Me?" She questioned incredulously. "Never." She settled happily into the chair and began to engross herself in a story she'd seen a million times over. 

He watched her instead. 

The way her eyes danced, the emotions that flitted across her face, her gasps and sighs as if she'd never been exposed to _Titanic_ before. The way she smiled when she thought something was funny, a dimple grew on her right cheek - one that had always been there, but not once had it ever made him feel light headed. This one did. And suddenly he didn't know who he was seeing anymore. It was like his vision blurred and Pan-chan faded away, replaced by someone he'd only known for the hour and a half that he'd been here. Suddenly it was like he'd never seen her before. But he wanted to see her again, wanted to know her better. 

The feeling was so odd and confusing that he scooted away from her on the small chair, settling himself onto the edge and trying to make himself look at ease. He let his eyes glance at the television for the first time since the movie started, noting that they were already to the point where Leo was drawing the girl naked. Thunder sounded in the background and a sharp flash of lightning illuminated the room before everything went black. The storm they had been expecting was kicking off in full effect now. 

"What the..?" Pan muttered, and he could feel her shift uncomfortably on the chair. He could sense the anger seeping from her, contaminating the atmosphere. "It just got to the best part!"

"Act it out in your head." Trunks replied boredly, rolling his eyes. How could she be upset over a movie she'd seen hundreds of times already? 

"But...but...they were just about to kiss. And you know how good of a kisser Leo is. Ugh." 

"A good kisser? No, I can't say I know." He mused, wishing she could see his entertained look. 

"Well he is. A _great _one." She filled in, moving on the couch. He could tell it was closer to him by the shift in weight. And by the fact that he could smell her, like licorice, closing in on his senses. 

"You know this from personal experience, of course." 

She laughed lightly at that. She _wished_. But the only kissing she'd been doing lately was with little children who had boo-boos at the hospital where she volunteered.

"You think I watch this movie for the destruction?" She teased and he could make out her smile in the darkness. His eyes had adjusted to the black now. 

"Just because he can follow stage directions doesn't mean he can _kiss_." Trunks challenged, bursting her fantasy. 

"Of course he can. Besides, what would _you_ know about proper kissing, Mr. I-blush-every-time-a-woman-touches-me?" There was only a slight sting to her words, being a little upset over the way he killed her dream. He winced, drawing his face into an unwarranted smile before grinning again, like a mad scientist. 

"As if you know how to kiss." The statement was simple, said without much emotion, but held the world behind it. She was quiet instantly, scowling, he was sure, though he couldn't tell. He felt her move and knew she was crossing her arms over her chest. It was classic Pan for 'go to hell'. He smirked.

"Why so silent, Miss Son? Do you remember?" He couldn't resist the urge, though they rarely talked about it, he couldn't fight back the need to embarrass her - just this once. 

"I remember." She replied sharply making it obvious through her tone that she definitely wasn't lying. How could she forget? It _had_ been her first kiss after all. And if he hadn't been so prudish he might not have ruined it. 

It was Summer and the weather was favorable. She was sixteen and incredibly infatuated with all thirty-years of him. Her eyes would light every time he came near her, her hands would tremble and she would loose all semblance of grace. She'd experienced her first butterflies because of him and they'd never really gone away. But this day was different, it was special. They were sitting on the beach, alone because Goten had run off with some new girl the second he got there and Bura had been too busy to spare time and accompany them. Of course, Ubuu was trailing her wherever she went and that only left Marron as company. But Marron had always been too good to spend her time with Trunks, she was too frustrated with why he was so 'immature'.

So it was Trunks and Pan. Had been for most of the summer and she was feeling a little...powerful because he'd spent so much time with her. As if that meant something special. 

He was just laying there, the sun cascading off his body, bouncing in ways that made him seem like a Greek god and she had to swallow hard every time she glanced in his direction. His eyes were closed and his shades were on, and she was positively sure he was asleep. She'd even called his name a few times and waved her hands over his face just to be sure. 

And then she'd done it. Leaned in for the kill, quickly lowering her face to his before she lost the nerve. Parting her lips slightly in anticipation of...well, she wasn't sure exactly. But something more than what she got. Which was a broken nose. He sat up and moved his head so fast when her lips landed on his that somehow his forehead had bumped her nose and moved the bone out of place. It was the worst kiss in the history of kisses. Short, choppy, and sloppy. A kiss that resulted in bodily injury that was too embarrassing to explain.

"You do, hmm?" He asked, lips pursed together to keep the laughter inside. She came back to this day and age, nodding and narrowing her eyes at him though he couldn't see the glare. "So you remember thinking I was asleep and-"

"I _said_ _yes_, didn't I?" He laughed, reaching his arms out and pulling her against him. She drew in a breath, trying to calm the party that started in her stomach every time he touched her. Years and it still hadn't gone away. How was she supposed to get over him when every time she thought she was making progress she did something stupid like invite him over for movies during a storm? His thumb slid down her arm in a slow movement, the pad caressing her and making the hairs on her arms stand on end. She ground her teeth together, trying to fight off the warm feeling of electricity that shot through her with no success. 

"I also remember the nose bleed that resulted and how violently you reacted." She spat, venom in her voice.

"Hey, I was shocked." He defended. 

"Yeah, pillows made better kissing partners than you." She challenged, still angry. 

"I resent that. I was taken off guard."

"It was spur-of-the-moment." 

"Oh. So you needed warm up time." He countered, thinking how shocked he was when he opened his eyes to find her lips messed against his. It was only a second and then he was up, and she was bleeding, and it was too late to correct ruining her first kiss. 

"I hate you, Trunks." She pouted, pulling her body away from his. "I thought we agreed never to talk about that again." He heard her annoyed huff of air and chuckled. 

"Well, you should have thought of that before you insulted my kissing talents." 

"If I recall correctly, they _were_ horrible. You _broke my nose_." Her eyebrows furrowed with anger.

"Pan, you nearly jumped me on the beach. _You_ were the one with horrible etiquette, not me."

"Yeah, well I've improved a great deal since then." She mumbled, now more grumpy than she was before they started this conversation, after Leo got cut off in the middle of his make-out session with Kate.

"I hope so. Otherwise I understand why Mr. Fabulous-Metropolis-Hero never called back." The joke was spoken lightly and she could nearly feel the smile he was pressing across his face, but it still made her blood boil. She felt the strong need to defend herself. To prove her worth. To make him want her. 

"I'm a good kisser." She protested bitterly.

"Sure, sure." He dismissed her, shuffling his body on the couch. He moved his leg behind her so that it stretched all the way out and the other was on the floor. Her body was on the middle cushion, between one of his legs and the other. 

"I am." She stated again, firmly as she moved back a little, letting her back rest against his stretched out leg. "I could make you forget your own name, Trunks." He could hear the whine in her voice and it made him smile. 

"Right." He tried to pacify her. "When's the electricity coming back on? Geesh." That made her want to pound his face again. He was dismissing her. He didn't believe her. She let out a hot breath of air and moved her body so that she was facing him, her head closer to his as she spoke. 

"Believe it or not, I'm not a sixteen year old girl anymore. I could make you want me." She caught his attention then, not with her declaration but with her tone. She was daring him, he could hear it, could _feel_ it. And he wasn't about to back down to a dare. He hadn't been raised like that. 

"Really?" He questioned, raising his brow and letting a half-smirk fit his face. "I doubt that." He smiled broadly by this point, feeling her ki soar a little. 

"Oh yeah?" She rebutted, moving closer to him still. 

"Yeah." He spoke softly, still smiling. 

"Would you care to make a bet on that?" She swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to throw her knee into his groin. Who did he think he was, Dende? He wasn't asexual. He was still and man and she was woman. She could make him want her, it couldn't be that hard. She could make him pant and beg for more, she knew it. Just because he'd always been Trunks-holier-than-thou-Briefs didn't mean she wasn't aware of how to make him buckle. He was just like anyone else with a penis. She could do this.

"What kind of bet?" He asked, curiosity peaked now. 

"Free breakfast for three weeks if I can't make your head spin - figuratively, of course."

"Three weeks, eh?" He bit his lip, thinking on her offer - but only for a second. Then he nodded his head and stuck out his hand. "Deal."

"Not so fast," He grinned.

"I knew you'd back out." She glared at him. 

"I _am not_ backing out. I just want to know what you're offering if I win." Her head tilted cockily. 

"Yeah right." He laughed, smacking his knee before choking on his amusement. He felt her anger soar again and realized she was serious. "Okay...One kiss that's supposed to make my head spin?" She nodded. "If it does...I'll...Get Hob Jacobs to check out Son's Kitchen." 

"I could get you to do that _without_ kissing you, Trunks." She frowned. 

"Yeah, but now you'll have an excuse to accept my generosity." 

Hob Jacobs was the most important food critic in Japan. If he said your food was good that pretty much made you a millionaire and Trunks had been offering to get the guy to visit Son's for some time now. But Pan's pride always stood in the way of her accepting. She didn't want pity from Trunks or anybody because her restaurant wasn't taking off. And if she got the man there she had wanted to do it on her own accord. But now...now it would be like she had done it herself. After all, it _would_ be a fair trade, for the kiss she was about to give him. 

"Deal." She nodded, very business like, and shook his hand. Then she moved closer to him, sucking in breath and trying to prepare herself for what she was about to do. Her head was so close to his that her breath was falling on his lower lip before she stopped moving and bit her lip. "Before I do this," 

"Yeah." He smirked, thinking she was backing out again. 

"Let's make one more deal." He could hear the hesitance in her voice and he backed his head up to look into her eyes. 

"Yeah?" 

"No regrets, okay?" He nodded, then cleared his throat. 

"Okay." 

And in the next second her lips and his were connected. Very hesitant at first, then more serious. She could nearly feel the friction build up within his body as well as her own. He inhaled sharply, quickly, and it fueled fires within Pan that she didn't know still existed. She thought briefly about speeding the kiss up, so that it would be over and done with. But she'd waited too long to taste his lips again and she was in no hurry to end this just yet. As her mouth pressed against his, it was soft, pliant. Her breath puffed up against his cheek and a small, faint moan built up in the back of her throat. 

He pulled her closer, evening her body out with his so that she was lying on top of him in the chair, and let his hands slide down her back, splaying against her spine. He was holding her tightly enough to him that he could feel her breasts crushed against him and it made him squeeze her tighter. Awakening the male senses within him. Successfully arousing him. Her body quickened, her heartbeat thundered against her ears, and Pan deepened the kiss, parting his lips with her tongue and sweeping her warmth into him. Tasting and exploring. And as she did, she felt him surrender. But she was too lost herself to savor the victory.

Trunks' brain had short-circuited. 

That was the only explanation for what was happening inside him. His stomach was spinning, his blood was humming, and his heartbeat pounded out a quick, hard rhythm to match the rain pelting on the roof. In one small corner of his mind he was trying to remind himself that this was _Pan_. Pan, his friend. Pan, Goten's niece. Pan, Gohan's daughter. 

Pan, the best kisser he'd experienced in his entire life. Cells in his body that had been in a coma for too long suddenly woke up and started dancing. A swirl of excitement pulsed inside him and brought a dangerous thrill that ached for more; demanded more. Another flash of lightening struck outside. Or maybe fireworks were going off. He didn't know, only that all of a sudden it was very bright. He didn't care. He only wanted to get lost in the mind-numbing music they were creating with each other. And that thought scared him to the cores. What was he doing? She was just a girl. But the body he had pressed against him was no girl. And the mouth so connected to his that he couldn't tell his ending from her beginning, was not _just a girl_.

When she finally pulled away from him her breath was coming out in ragged stretches and her eyes were hazy with passion he hadn't known existed, but must have always been there. Why had he never seen it before? Her lips were a darker pink and slightly swollen, in a very sexy way. She looked so good it made his skin crawl and his body feel weighted with at least a hundred more pounds. 

Vaguely he noted that what he'd thought were fireworks was actually the electricity, coming back on. 

"So," She started, her voice airy and raspy. "Did your head spin?" Her lips twitched into his smirk and he wanted to snatch it back. It was his, how did she get it so perfectly? But he didn't have the strength to move even that much, he was in too much shock, so he only lay there. 

"You could say that." He finally responded after catching his breath. 

"Yeah, but I want to hear _you_ say it." 

"Okay." He nodded, his thoughts still a scramble of 'what-the-hell's and 'dear-Dende's. "It not only made my head spin, but I think it exploded the damn thing. Is it still there?" His voice was weak as he asked the question, making it sound genuine and she giggled. He didn't know what to say. All he really understood at that moment was that she was still laying on him, her hips pressed lightly on his erection, and he was most definitely picturing her naked. And this couldn't be a good combination - for either of them. 

"Good. Then you _owe_ me Hob Jacobs." He nodded dumbly, still not sure if he was thinking clearly. What the hell was this? Two minutes ago she'd been one of his best friends. She'd been someone to talk to when things were confusing. She'd been..._safe_. And now she was..._everything_ _else_. 

Somewhere inside of him he wondered where this left their friendship. But somewhere else, namely the lower regions of his body, he didn't care; he only wanted to do it again. To do more. And not think of anything else. Before he knew what he was saying, before he could stop the foot that was ready to lodge itself inside his mouth, the words were coming out of him and he was surprised he'd spoken them. 

"Double or nothing. Six weeks, or I'll send some of my clients to Son's as well. What do you say?" 

She lifted her eyebrow, curious no doubt. Intrigued. "What's the bet?"

"You can't do that again." She moved on his body, evening herself with him again and lowering her head. Slowly, very, very slowly, and stopping right before their lips met. His heart was already quickening and his lips were pursed and ready. Why'd she stop?

"We do this again and it won't be enough." She whispered, her breath dancing across his upper lip in a teasing manner that made him want to just ravish her right there. 

"I know." He answered, closing the space between them. 

  
...

Beeping sounded, droning on, over and over, invading the heads of the sleeping Saiyans and reaching out to yank them from their unconscious states. Trunks stirred, rolling over and reaching out for a pillow, wanting to bury his head and forget the unpleasantness of the outside world. He felt heat next to him, the warm security of a body stir, and immediately his eyes popped open. He sat upright in bed, moving the covers lower and catching a glimpse of his sleeping partner's chest before yanking the covers back up. A blush rose on his cheeks, spreading quickly as he searched his brain for some coherent sense of what was happening. 

A headache began to throb and he found himself falling back onto the bed, still hearing the annoying beeping that hadn't seemed to stop. Craning his neck, he could see the alarm clock - the reason for his unhappiness. Reaching over the girl whom he had undoubtedly slept with last night, he hit the 'alarm' button on the clock, slowly beginning to register the events that had occurred no less than a couple of hours ago. Everything that he had done, and who he had done it with. Why the hell was an alarm going off at four-thirty in the morning anyway?

The girl stirred, rolling so that her back rested on his chest before he had a chance to pull his arm all the way back. Sighing, he let the limb fall lightly across her waist, his fingers spreading and laying calmly splayed across her stomach. She snuggled closer to him, her midnight strands brushing, tickling across his neck as she moved. He smiled, lifting his head so that it rested on the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. Licorice. Always the same comforting smell. Only now it was mixed with the smell of his cologne and breathing it in sent a parade of emotions welling through him, crowding his stomach so that it did crazy flips and twists before he could regain himself. 

And suddenly it hit him. A strong something he couldn't fight off, some kind of primal instinct that said he had to mark her. His smell on her body had triggered it. She had to be his. Only his. He licked his lips, smiling quietly to himself because he knew he wanted things to be like this, always. Forever. And leaned his head down closer into her neck, kissing it softly and then a little more demandingly. "Pan," He called, knowing she needed to be up now. Because he suddenly needed her, wanted her badly. "Pan," He called again, nuzzling her neck with his chin. 

This time she moved. Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked rapidly, regaining herself and her surroundings. Her eyes landed on his, he had moved his face to be level with hers, and for a brief second he saw panic and pure confusion flit through them. Then came the recognition. The realization. And, apparently, the embarrassment because her face flushed three different shades of red before she controlled it. 

"What?" She asked as calmly as she could manage, trying for all she was worth to act unaffected by the fact that she was naked. And he was naked. And they were touching. Well, _he _was touching _her_.

"Why was your alarm clock going off so early in the morning?" 

It was a simple question but it caused panic to seize through every crevice of her body and strike her face with such malice it contorted in pain. Reality donned on her and she became painfully aware that this wasn't a dream. This was real. Trunks was laying in her bed, holding her in his arms, and they had just had sex. More than once. Mind-numbing, incredible, life-altering sex, mind you, but still they had changed things forever. Friendship had flown out the window and this was no joke. 

And it was past four-thirty. She was laying in someone's arms when she should be starting her day. Much worse, they had promised each other last night that in the morning this would mean nothing. That he would leave and things would be fine. And now she wanted to cling to his arm and cry. She wanted to beg him never to walk away from her. But she didn't know what to do, and she sure as hell wasn't begging _anyone_ for _anything_....unless you counted last night when-...No, she wouldn't think of it. Not now, it wouldn't help her to watch him walk out of her apartment if she was thinking about _that_ when he left. 

He was just Trunks. Reliable, Trunks. Too old for her, Trunks. Out of reach, Trunks. Trunks, with the magic hands...Oh, Dende. She moaned out loud and pulled her body away from his, remembering how serious he had been last night when he said this meant "nothing", that their actions changed "nothing". His hand moved, the arm that was draped across her reached out, and for a second she thought he was going to pull her back to him. For a second she held her breath, hoping he had changed his mind somewhere in between "What we're about to do won't change things at all," and "Dear...uhhh, _Pan_...Dende, thank you..." But her hopes were smashed when his hand fell limply to his side and his head hit the pillow once again. 

"What's wrong?" He asked after a second of strained silence between them. She swallowed and prepared herself for what she was about to do. Steeling her emotions so that he didn't have the chance to make her look like an idiot, to make her beg for him to stay. So that she wasn't smiling and throwing herself at him for him to look at his watch and declare this "nothing" over.

"Nothing's wrong." She said, distantly and nearly cold as she sat up in bed, pulling one of the sheets with her as she slid off 'her' side.

"You didn't answer my question." He only moved slightly so that she could pull the rest of her cover with her, watching with interested eyes as she moved around in the white sheet, completely naked underneath.

"I have to start baking, I do run a restaurant, you know?" She wrapped the sheet tighter around herself, noticing where his gaze was landing and feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"That requires you waking up before the birds?" He smirked, noticing the way her arms tightened around her chest, as if he didn't still have a mental picture of what her naked body looked like. Splayed across her living room floor, later in the hallway on the way to her room, and then on her bed only a couple of hours ago. If he wanted to see her body all he had to do was close his eyes.

"I have to start the baking. Trunks, you run a business, you know what I mean." She turned on him, searching for something but he wasn't clear on what. He sighed, rolling over in her bed and shutting his eyes for a few seconds. What was wrong with her this morning? Did she regret what they did? Or what he had said before they made such a huge decision? He knew he should open his mouth and tell her that he did feel something for her and this wasn't just a one time thing. Or, at least, he hoped it didn't have to be. That he did want to hold her right now, and could get used to waking up with her, like that, forever. Just this quickly he was in love with her, and he knew she should be hearing these words instead of having them bounce off the walls in his head, but he couldn't seem to make his mouth form the sentences that he needed to get them out. 

And, truthfully, he hadn't thought he'd need to. Even last night he had expected their "nothing" to be a million times more than that. Only, he had thought she'd be the reason why. He had thought she'd be throwing herself at him. Women always threw themselves at him, never the other way around. And it was all that he was used to. To be perfectly honest, right now he didn't have the slightest clue what he was supposed to say that would get her back in this bed with him, without forfeiting some of his precious pride.

"No, love, I never get up this early." Was as close as it got. She paused, turned back to face him, frozen in time for a few precious seconds. She looked wonderful, delicious to the full meaning of the word. Her hair was bed messy, like she had just done...well, what they had just done. The sheet that wrapped around her only served to make her look more sexy, her eyes had dark rings around them which gave them depth and beauty. Her lips were pursed, slightly open as she watched him, pink in color and round on her circular face. She was just overall wonderful. He wanted nothing more, in that moment, than for her to climb back onto the bed so he could replay last nights events.

This was crazy. An overwhelming feeling of true elation and complete abandon. It started in his stomach and spread to the tips of his hair and the corners of his toes. He loved her. He needed her. He wanted her. But, with crushing clarity, he realized he wasn't going to get her. Her eyes had narrowed and she stepped cautiously to the bed, giving him a look she had only ever used with those she despised more than life. He swallowed hard, wondering what he'd done, and waited for the blow. It came with her words.

"You should leave now, before anyone sees you." Her voice was slightly distant, more worried than anything, and panic sliced through his security for a second. Was that all she wanted? To get rid of him? Surely there was more to what they had shared last night than simple sex. She couldn't be worried about what other people thought.

"Pan," 

"Trunks, you should leave." She said more firmly, not leaving room for argument. "If Goten or my father know you spent the night here do you know what they'll do to you?" So she was worried about him. "What they'll think of me? Or say to me? I couldn't face it." Okay, so she wasn't. Damn, where did that leave him? What did this mean?

"You want me to go?" He sounded sad, pitiful as he asked, and she nodded, wanting to cry. She knew this was the only way. She had to tell him to go because no one else ever had. She had to make him leave. Watch him walk away. And it hurt like shards of glass slicing through every piece of her body over and over again. 

"Yes, I do." She managed, keeping her voice even and without emotion. He looked like someone had just told him he was going to die. His face fell, it paled three shades. She could nearly see his eyes dull as he nodded his head, brushing purple strands of hair out of his face. 

"So, that's it?" He couldn't help the desperate tone in his voice. He couldn't believe he was sounding like this, so pitiful, but he couldn't believe this was happening. He was sure she was in love with him too. Or at least that she cared about him in some form that he had never noticed before. When he was with her last night, he saw, for the first time, what he should have been seeing all along. He _saw _the depth of her emotion. And now that look was gone. It wasn't in her eyes. He was so confused, so lost, he didn't know what this meant.

How could she go from adoring him one day to abhorring him the next? It didn't seem logical. And the only thing he could come up with was that it had to do with last night. Obviously. So that was it, then? That's what he was asking. She slept with him and now she's got it out of her system? Now she's through? And in the midst of her little fling she managed to make him desperately in love with her and then kick him out of her house. What was he going to do now? How could this mean nothing to her?

"What more should there be?" She asked distantly, shifting slightly in her position at the foot of the bed. Almost as if she felt guilty. He resisted the urge to growl.

"Oh, I don't know," He started sarcastically. "Don't you have something to say about last night? Anything at all, Pan?"

"Oh, yeah," Her eyes lit as she nodded, finally some form of emotion coming back to her. He smiled, he knew she couldn't be over him that quickly. Relief rushed through his body as he awaited her response. "Thanks, it was fun."

His world crashed around him. Roaring pounded through his ears that could have been his heartbeat, or it could have been his blood pumping, but all he could see and think about and feel was the pain. How could she say that, as if he had taught her how to drive last night, or something equally as trivial? It was _fun_? What the hell was he, there for her amusement now? Was this a joke. He wanted to jump up and pull her to him, to kiss her until she understood what he felt. To make her see what he saw and love like he loved. But he knew there was no changing her that way. She had to do it on her own, or there was nothing at all. She was Pan.

"Well, I guess I should go then." They both nodded. 

The anger that she saw in his eyes scared her. But it also let her know that she was doing the right thing. If she had truly meant something to him, other than just a good time last night, then he would have been crushed, devastated. Her statement would have been more than just a blow to his pride. It would have stomped his heart, abused his spirit, mangled his soul. But it had only made him want to prove a point. To prove that he was more than 'fun', he was special. A point that didn't need to be proven to her. She knew that already. 

But she couldn't fall into Trunks' lap like everything else he'd been given in life. Anything he'd ever truly wanted, he had fought for. He was Saiyan and he was supposed to fight for the things that meant something. And she was not about to be that exception. She had every intention of meaning something. And if she had to crush his pride, destroy his ego, this one time to do it, then so be it. She would not be played for a fool.

"Let's get dressed," she spoke, reaching out for the robe that she had been looking for since she got out of the bed. "And I'll walk you out."

He nodded, not able to argue or comprehend anything that was happening at this moment. She wasn't serious, was she? That was it? It was fun, and that's it? He got out of bed, not bothering to cover himself, and walked through her room, past the hallway, and back into the living room. He threw his boxers and pants on then pulled his shirt on over his head. He grabbed his shoes and socks and walked over to the door, Pan was standing there smiling at him in a way that made him want to punch something. How could she be some damn cheery right now, couldn't she see that this was killing him?

"When will I see you again?" He asked, hoping against hope that she would say something like 'soon, I hope' and fall into his arms. He snorted at his own self for a delusion of something that was never going to happen.

"I don't think anytime soon would be a good idea." She shook her head, letting him know that she wasn't going to change her mind about this subject, a 'no' to the silent question he had asked. They wouldn't do this again.

"I have to bring Hob by for lunch sometime." He tried again, still standing at the door hoping she'd beg him not to go.

"That's fine. You'll be having lunch with _him_, not _me_, won't you?" She was teasing, as she smiled the dimple on the right side of her cheek was pronounced. He leaned in and kissed her before either of them could stop him. He pulled her close, feeling her body mold with his, feeling the way she shook in his arms, and knowing the sexual tension was still there. Very much alive. And she loved him. Only, her arms came up to his shoulders and pushed him away, her lips curved downward as she shook her head. 

"We made a deal, remember?"

"Yeah, no regrets." He knew she was referring to the part where they would mean nothing to each other, but he didn't want to remember that. So he turned it around, to where they promised they wouldn't regret anything. Because he wanted her to understand that everything that happened the night before meant something to him. And he didn't regret a moment of it. He just stood there, wondering what she would say. She didn't say anything. Her answer was to respond, full force, to his kiss by planting one of her own on his lips. His shoes and socks clamored to the floor. He never made it out of the door.  
  
A/N: Don't forget to review, I'd really appreciate it. And don't ask me to continue this, I'm not going to. If you want to know how I would write what happens after a situation like this wait for _Boundless Adulation_. It'll be a while, I'll have to finish NSN and start writing _Last Chances_, but I'll get there one day - hopefully.


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